Ground Rules
by Mooncat99
Summary: Tony on protection detail, alone with Vance and McGee. It just has to go wrong, doesn't it? Before he knows it he's on the run, not only from assassins hell-bent on killing his director but from enemies of his own as well.
1. Prelude

Title: Ground Rules

Author: Mooncatff

Rating: T

Summary: Tony on protection detail, alone with Vance and McGee. It just has to go wrong, doesn't it? Before he knows it he's on the run, not only from assassins hell-bent on killing his director but from enemies of his own as well.

Warnings: Violence to a certain degree, some bad language, Tony-whumping.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of NCIS.

Copyright: Sarah Diaz 2012

Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, another Tony on protection detail that goes wrong story. And boy, lots of Tony in charge and Tony the hero. But I just couldn't resist and hope you like it. Now remember English is not my mother tongue. I do my best though and scousemuz1k looks for the rest. Thank you so much for straightening out my German-influenced English! Okay, now enough babble, let's move on to the story. Enjoy!

* * *

_**Ground Rules**_

**Prelude**

Getting out of the truck, Tony quickly took in the scene to which they'd been called. For once, they had arrived before Gibbs, who'd been delayed by a meeting with Vance and SecNav. So it had been Tony who had gotten the call, leaving a message for the boss to follow them. And it was his job now to get the team started on processing this scene.

From the look of it Ensign Paul Garth had committed suicide by jumping down from a bridge. Then again, he had learned a long time ago never to assume. For now, this was a crime scene and that's how they would handle this scene. "Ziva, shoot and sketch, McGee, bag and tag." Ziva sighed, but moved to the back of the truck to get her equipment. McGee though didn't move. Tony raised an eyebrow. "You waiting on a written invitation, Probie?"

"No, Tony, but what will _you_ do while we do all the work?" McGee asked, giving him a not so nice look.

Tony sighed inwardly. It was getting hard to make McGee listen to him lately. In or out of the office, that was one thing. But in the field? "Until Ducky arrives I'll talk with the officers first on scene and then interview the witnesses," he answered evenly, hoping it would spur his junior agent along without further argument. But it was hard to suppress a more creative reply, which for sure would lead to more talking back.

Unfortunately, McGee didn't get the hint. Like so often. If they weren't delivered written down, with a head-slap or in the form of computer codes, taking hints wasn't his probie's forte. "Why can't I do the interviews? Oh, let me guess. You want to flirt with the girl beach volley ball team that found him. Really, aren't they a bit too young, even for you?"

Tony glanced at the waiting girls, in their cute little outfits, sweat glistening on their bronzed skin. Interviewing them would indeed not be that much of a hard chore. Then again, they were pretty young, some cried, some looked definitely green around the nose. Conducting interviews with such witnesses, even if they were without doubt a nice treat for the eyes, was not so much fun. But of course, that wasn't the point. "Oh, okay then. If you'd rather deal with sobbing girls, sure, go ahead. I'll go get the equipment and start with the evidence." He made a few steps towards the back of the truck, catching Ziva looking from him to McGee with a frown of exasperation. Shaking her head, she turned away and went to work. Snapping his fingers, he turned around, his eyes hard as he glared at McGee. "Oh wait, I think I forgot something. Now, what was that again?" He put his head to the side before holding up a finger. "Right. Just a small detail, easy to forget, I'm sure. Know what that could be, _Probie_?"

McGee gritted his teeth but said nothing. Well, that was something, at least. "It's called chain of command. And last time I checked I'm still the senior agent here. Bag and tag, McGee, before I write you up for insubordination," Tony finished, his voice tightly controlled but rising a bit at the end.

His eyes flashing with indignation, his junior agent raised his chin. But before he could say something that would leave Tony no choice than to follow through with his threat, a not very pleased voice sounded from behind them. "Care to explain why you two aren't working?"

Cursing silently, Tony smiled widely at Gibbs. "We were just about to start, Boss. In fact, McGee was already on his way to go get his bags to start bagging and tagging." It was a cheap way out of this issue, but there was no way he could let his probie get away with anything other than what he had been ordered to do. And Tim may dare to question his orders, but he hadn't the balls to do it in front of the boss.

Gibbs' only reply was a telling look before, like Tony a few minutes ago, he took in the scene, then glanced expectantly at McGee. Finally the junior agent sprang into action, not without a last withering glare towards Tony though. He returned the glare before looking back at Gibbs who merely raised an eyebrow. He shrugged then nodded towards the officers waiting at the edge of the crime scene. "I'll go talk to the LEOs. So far all points to a suicide." He didn't need to add more, knowing that only too well, so he left to do as he'd said, not in the mood to be his usual jovial self. His probie used to be a great source of fun, able to take most of his sometimes admittedly crude humor in his stride, but lately, not so much. Just the opposite, it seemed as if the probie rather sucked out the little fun this job provided. Being a cop for almost twenty years now Tony desperately needed that small spark in order to be able to continue this job and come back every morning. Besides, Tim's attitude was starting to get on his nerves – and making him look incapable of being in charge. Not to mention the lives it was putting at risk.

Tony knew there were orders that could be ignored, as well as orders that had to be questioned. It was why he never joined officially one of the military branches. Or, to be honest, why he had changed his job every two years before finding a partner and boss he could trust to usually give out reasonable commands. Although following orders blindly just wasn't in his nature, he also knew that there were times where there couldn't be any questions, that only blind obedience would do.

For years, he'd thought his probie knew and respected that too. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. Admittedly, this hadn't been a life-or-death situation. Nonetheless, they'd been in the field and working a case. Not the place to question orders. His probie should know that.

Instead, he'd been insubordinate. This time there had been no harm but he shuddered to think about what could happen the next time McGee thought he didn't have to follow an order.

* * *

With a scowl, Tim stashed away the evidence he'd collected. There hadn't been that much so it only had taken him an hour or so, still, it hadn't been enough time for him to cool down. He had _so_ had it with DiNozzo! Always putting him down, ridiculing him, pranking him, giving him all the undesirable jobs he didn't want to do himself. While he had collected the evidence, crawling around all over the crime scene, Tony had joked around with the LEOs, flirted with the witnesses and heaven knew what he had done the rest of the time. Not much, from Tim's vantage point. Worse, Gibbs let him get away with almost everything lately. He barely reined DiNozzo in with a glare, headslap or a sharp warning anymore. God, how Tim missed those wonderful old times where Tony was the main focus of Gibbs' very special teaching methods. He didn't know what had changed that Gibbs had eased off his gruff disciplinary treatment of Tony but he truly wished that he would go back to them. At least then Tony had been somewhat bearable.

At least the director still valued Tim's skills. While he and DiNozzo still didn't see eye to eye, for which Tim was very glad. Admitted, the animosity between the director and the senior field agent had ameliorated, mostly thanks to Gibbs' insistence and refusing to exclude his second any further than what was absolutely necessary, but it was far from having any deep respect for each other.

The focus of his grief suddenly spoke up outside of the truck. "Looks more and more like a suicide, Boss. Some of the girls saw him jump. None of them saw anyone else on the bridge. In fact, they all claimed he had been alone. I went up on the bridge and couldn't see any signs of foul play, but I took the prints, maybe they'll tell another story. Though I also spoke with the LEOs and one of them recognized the victim from a case a couple of weeks back. Apparently Ensign Garth and his fiancé were robbed on the street, after the ensign got some cash from an ATM. According to the report, he'd forgotten his wallet. Instead of handing over the money, he put up a fight. Turns out the robber was armed. The fiancé was hit three times in the chest and was gone by the time the medics and police arrived on scene. I put in a call to his CO. Today would have been their wedding day." There was a slight pause. "Sorry, Boss, but I think this is exactly what it looks like," he finished sadly.

"Ducky agrees. There are no defensive wounds or bruises that suggest he was pushed. Looks like he blamed himself and couldn't live with the guilt." Gibbs sighed. It was no secret that the boss never accepted suicides easily. Hence his dedication to always making sure it wasn't anything else. Sometimes, Tim wondered why he was so reluctant to believe a brother in arms could choose to take his own life. After all, statistics showed that the military was one of the professions with the most suicides. Oh sure, most soldiers chose to go out in style, especially the higher ranking they were. But it was suicide nonetheless. And he wondered, after the boss had lost his wife and daughter, if he'd never sat there in his basement with a gun to his head. And if he had, what had stopped him from pulling the trigger. But maybe whatever reason he'd had was also why he had such a hard time accepting it when other soldiers hadn't been as strong as him.

"Was the robber caught?"

"No, they're still looking for him."

Tim suppressed a groan. Great. If he knew the boss any way at all, next thing they'd be moving heaven and earth in order to find that bastard and bring him to justice. There was no doubt in his mind that in Gibbs' eyes, the robber was the one truly responsible for this senseless death. Jurisdiction be damned. Vance would have a fit, Tony would enjoy another chance to get one over Metro police, Ziva would follow all the orders and he would be stuck in the middle, probably having to run a few dozen search programs in order to find the suspect. Not that Tim disagreed per se. Gibbs was right, the robber was responsible and should be off the streets and punished for the murder of that poor woman. But this was clearly not their jurisdiction and Metro wouldn't be pleased to have their toes stepped on. Which wouldn't please Vance, letting out his frustration on Gibbs. Who in turn would become even more of a bastard than usual and take it out on all of them. And there was no question whom Tony would take it out on.

"See if you can get the original case files. But first go check out his place, talk with his parents and friends. Maybe he left a suicide note or talked with someone about his intentions. Take McGee with you."

Again, Tim suppressed a groan. The last thing he needed or wanted now was to be stuck alone with Tony for hours and hours.

Apparently, Tony shared his feelings. "I'd rather take Ziva. You know some prefer to talk to a woman and as they don't know Ziva ... Besides, if you want to go after that robber, despite that case not being our jurisdiction, it may be smoother to get those files the unofficial way, if you get my drift. The sooner McGeek can start with them, the better."

Tim held his breath. Gibbs didn't like his orders questioned. Most of him wanted the boss to listen to Tony's pretty reasonable comments. Anything to get away from the senior field agent for a while. But there was also a part of him, surprisingly dark, that hoped Tony's request would be met with the usual Gibbs reply: a head-slap or even better, some well chosen words that would put the senior field agent in place, finally. Try as he might, he may be his senior but that still didn't make him team leader.

But Gibbs huffed his agreement. Tim rolled his eyes. Of course. Let Tony get away with one more thing. There was the sound of someone walking away, most likely Tony. But then - "DiNozzo."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You've got a problem with McGee." Was that a question or a statement? Tim wasn't sure and he barely dared to breath, desperately wanting to hear the rest of that particular conversation. He didn't think they'd noticed him inside the truck and now certainly wasn't the time to let them know that he could hear their every word.

There was no answer from Tony. Too bad he couldn't see them as well.

"Fix it," Gibbs said, his voice making sure that this order was absolute.

At last, Tony sighed. "Yeah, Boss."

This time, there were two sets of steps walking away and he could hear Tony calling for Ziva and Gibbs' low murmur with Ducky. Remaining where he was, Tim thought about what he'd overheard. Maybe he'd been wrong and Gibbs had after all noticed how Tony's treatment of him had gotten way out of hand lately. Tim wasn't sure how he felt about Tony easing off his harassment of him only per Gibbs' orders, then again, right now, he would take all the leeway he could get. And of course, it was nice to know that Gibbs for once took his side, chiding Tony instead, albeit pretty lightly.

Tim smiled. Yeah, that was a start. Hopefully, one Tony would respect.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?"

Vance looked up from the report he was reading, unnerved that Gibbs had yet again managed to sneak up on him and got by Cynthia unannounced, but determined not to show his best agent his exasperation. The less weakness he showed in front of the ex-gunnery sergeant, the better. Not that he was afraid of the man. Hell, as much as he hated to admit it, he respected him, and over the years they had come to an understanding that allowed them to work extremely well with each other. Nonetheless, he knew that the older man would only accept orders from him so long as he regarded him as an equal. Of some sorts.

Leaning back in his chair, Vance tapped with his pen onto the file. "I see your latest case was ruled a suicide."

Like always, Gibbs' face and eyes gave nothing away. "Looks like it. The investigation is still pending though."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "Witnesses claimed there was no one else on the bridge as Ensign Paul Garth jumped. Preliminary autopsy report suggests no foul play. And we have a motive. What, if I may ask, Special Agent Gibbs, is there still to investigate?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Just tying up some loose ends before wrapping it up, Leon. Besides, you know very well that a case is only over after the autopsy has been fully performed."

"Oh yes. Unfortunately it seems as if Dr Mallard is swamped with other more urgent tasks and signaled he won't be able to finish his report for a couple of days," Vance said, watching the lead agent closely – whose answer was the ghost of a smile.

"Too bad."

"Too bad indeed," Vance sighed and sat up. "Very well, as we don't have another case for you yet I'll let you play with this one. But as it is obvious you'll hardly need your whole team to wrap the case up, since it's only to confirm a suicide, I have a new assignment for Agents McGee and DiNozzo."

The stiffening of his back was the only sign of Gibbs' displeasure. "What assignment?"

For a moment Vance indulged in the fantasy of telling Gibbs that it was none of his business and as director, he could order his agents doings as he pleased. But as he also knew to pick his battles wisely, especially with Gibbs, he restrained himself and just answered in a businesslike tone. "I agreed with SecNav that I have to personally attend the annual law enforcement technology conference in Philadelphia. We're interested in several technological modernizations for NCIS. As this is the expertise of Agent McGee, I require him to attend as well. And seeing that this was once DiNozzo's turf, it's probably a good idea he's the second agent to cover my security detail. We'll leave tomorrow." To be honest, he had been very close to picking Agent David instead. The prospect of having to spend four days up and close with the exuberant and most of the time very annoying Agent DiNozzo was not something he was looking forward to. Not to mention that DiNozzo's track record with security details was considerably lacking.

Then again, Vance prided himself in thinking logically and using his resources to the optimum. So taking an agent who was familiar with the location, maybe even had some useful connections to aid them, finally won over his exasperation with DiNozzo.

And whether he liked it or not, over the years he'd come to accept that there was a good reason DiNozzo was Gibbs' second-in-command and, despite all the head-slaps or maybe because of them, hands down the gruff marines' favorite. Some would say Ms Sciuto held that place in Gibbs' heart, but he knew better. He had first hand experience of how determined, pissed off and worried Gibbs got whenever DiNozzo was threatened or even just in a possibly dangerous situation. Admittedly, it had taken him some time to figure it out.

His first clue should have been Gibbs' insistence on getting DiNozzo back on his team after he'd promoted him to Agent Afloat. But he had to face a royally pissed off marine after sending DiNozzo alone to track Reynosa's brother to Mexico before he learned his lesson. To say Gibbs had been displeased with his decision would be like saying the Pope was just a bit catholic. There'd been a moment when Vance had been sure Gibbs would pull a gun on him to demand that he order DiNozzo back home on the spot. Luckily, Gibbs had restrained his urge and Vance had learned his lesson. Which was why, when SecNav had wanted DiNozzo to do an undercover op for him, he'd done his best to discourage Jarvis from that plan. And when that had failed, make it perfectly clear to Gibbs that this hadn't been his idea at all and if he wanted to nail someone's ass for using his agent without his permission, he had to go to SecNav. Which Gibbs did, not much to Vance's surprise. But it once again brought home to him the fact that as long as Gibbs breathed, no one who threatened DiNozzo or placed him in a potentially dangerous situation, perp or superior, was safe from the ex-sniper's wrath.

Oh no, DiNozzo was definitely Gibbs' favorite. Vance had learned to work with that. But it didn't mean he stopped being the director. He still tasked his agents with what he thought was best suited for them and if that collided with Gibbs' need to protect his own, well, so be it.

As expected, Gibbs was already frowning slightly. As usual, it was close to impossible to read the reason for the frown. Was it displeasure at losing two agents temporarily, disagreement with his decision or his sending DiNozzo away from where Gibbs could keep an eye on him? "Got a problem with that, Agent Gibbs?" Vance asked, perhaps with a bit more hostility than intended.

"Apart from you splitting my team up?" Gibbs replied dryly, before he moved his head once to the side. "Maybe you better take David instead of DiNozzo," he finally admitted, and for once his reluctance to admit this was obvious.

Intrigued by this uncharacteristic disloyalty to his most prized and favorite agent, Vance raised an eyebrow. As much as he didn't like DiNozzo away from his six, Gibbs would usually rather die than imply that perhaps, DiNozzo couldn't handle something.

"Really? Why is that?" But Gibbs wasn't ready to say more and he simply stared back at him, almost a bit defiantly. "You think DiNozzo's not up for the job?" Vance asked, not willing to let it rest yet.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes in clear indignation. "You don't get better than DiNozzo," he stated flatly.

Vance held out his hands, palm turned upwards. "So then?" Again, Gibbs was unwilling to give him an answer. Shrugging, Vance dismissed him by looking down onto the file. "If you have no clear reason for me not to take DiNozzo I stand with my choice. Please send Agents McGee and DiNozzo up so I can brief them. Meanwhile, unless you get a new case, you can wrap up the suicide. But Gibbs, I expect the full and finished report by the time I get back."

"If you say so. Have a good trip, Leon," Gibbs said sarcastically, giving him that look that said he was doing the wrong thing but if he didn't know better himself, Gibbs couldn't be bothered with his insufficient hindsight.

With a scowl, Vance watched the door close after Gibbs, tapping his pen on the file as he mentally went over the details, trying to see whatever it was that had made Gibbs unwilling to send DiNozzo with him.

* * *

Gibbs was sitting at his work bench, patiently carving out the details of a locomotive. Amira had a fascination with them and her birthday was in a few weeks. He planned to have a whole three to four feet long train ready for her by then. And then he still had to make Mike's gift for her as well. He had left him with a detailed list of presents to give her over the years for her birthdays and at Christmas, a legacy he was honored to fulfill for his old mentor. Besides, although bittersweet, it felt good to make presents for a little girl again, even if it was only his godchild.

Soft footsteps made the boards above him creak, but he calmly continued his work, recognizing the steps immediately. He had been waiting for his SFA to arrive for the past two hours. Either Vance had kept him longer than anticipated or DiNozzo had taken some time before following his unvoiced invitation - okay, order really.

Already the footsteps moved down the stairs but he didn't look up. With his second in command you best waited him out until he spoke. Most of the time it didn't take long, though it was always debatable how much truth there was in the things DiNozzo said. That man could dodge direct questions and avoid telling unwanted truths better than all the best politicians worldwide together. He was glad every day that DiNozzo had never decided to go into politics. As much as he respected the younger man, politics corrupts and what a shame it would have been to lose such a bright spark that shone in the often dark days in the life of a law enforcement officer, federal or otherwise.

It was that very spark he was worried about. Philly hadn't been a good place and time for DiNozzo and he loathed the thought that his agent was heading back there with a director that didn't appreciate him enough and a junior agent that lately seemed to be more interested in hurting his training officer rather than having his six. In fact, he hated it so much that he had come as close to actually reinforcing Vance's disregarding opinion of his SFA as he'd ever come. Of course, Tony wouldn't thank him for his efforts. Hell, if he ever got wind of it he'd be pissed, hurt and pissed some more. And he'd have every right to.

But he couldn't help it. It wasn't just the memories that would most likely haunt his second in that godforsaken place. He had enemies there. Powerful enemies who would be either much displeased to see DiNozzo come back onto their turf - or, maybe even worse, rejoice in the fact that the mouse had walked back right into the trap. There was a reason why Gibbs always found a reason to not take a case that was too close to Philly and it had nothing to do with the lousy weather there. Since that damn SWAT letter yet another reason why this place was no good for Tony.

"I brought pizza and beer. It's upstairs." At last Gibbs looked up, taking a good look at his SFA.

Tony grinned, holding up his hands. "No offense, I'm sure everyone loves a layer of sawdust on their pizza but I thought it may be a bit more comfortable? Plus, the game's on tonight and as you still lack a TV that deserves its name down here ..."

To most of the world, Tony seemed to be his usual sarcastic but jovial self. But Gibbs knew better. The smile didn't reach his eyes, his grin was only a hundred watts tops, instead of a hundred and fifty to two hundred, and there were slight lines of stress around his eyes, not to mention the tension that practically buzzed from his body. Wordlessly, he carefully put his carving away and moved to the stairs.

They settled on the couch, turned on the game and wordlessly ate. Well, wordless on his part. Tony of course commented on the game. But Gibbs noticed with concern that he failed to be aggravated a few times when his team messed up a pass or was fouled without the referee doing anything to discipline the other team. Even worse, DiNozzo apparently wasn't too hungry. While he usually had to fight the guy for every slice, when they finished up there were still two slices left after him already eating one more than his half. But Gibbs said nothing as he tidied up and made coffee while Tony watched the end of the game. Nor did he say anything as Tony's team lost and he hardly had any comments on that, or when they moved back down to the basement, with him returning to work on the locomotive again while Tony just sat on the stairs, saying nothing.

It was eerie and unnerving, this silence from his usually so talkative agent, and Gibbs soon started to go through possible ways that he could keep DiNozzo in DC after all. When some more minutes passed in silence, the marine sighed, got up and brought out the bourbon. Emptying one nail glass for himself and taking his usual for Tony, he poured them both a healthy shot and handed one to Tony. "When're you leaving?"

"We're picking up Vance at six thirty. Flight's at eight thirty," Tony reported calmly. Too calmly. It was seldom a good sign when his SFA went all businesslike, not coloring his answers with some trivia, a joke or a movie reference. Especially here, far from the office.

"I could find a reason to keep you here," Gibbs offered, tired of waiting DiNozzo out and plunging right into it.

Tony didn't stiffen nor did he immediately insist that this was unnecessary or that he was fine. It deeply unsettled Gibbs. "I don't see how, Boss. Unless you plan to give me such a head-slap it gives me brain damage or stage my kidnapping I don't think the tooth pick will change his mind. And he shouldn't have to," Tony finally said, his face hardening. "From his point of view, it makes perfect sense to pick me for this detail. I am one of the most experienced agents he has, plus I know the turf."

"You also have enemies on that turf," Gibbs reasoned. "They find out you're back in Philadelphia and come after you, it puts the director in danger too."

"Yeah, but then again, it's been almost fifteen years. Paccieti is still on death row, Malcuso's serving a few lifetimes, both rotting away in SCI-Greene. Most players from back then are either dead or in prison. It's highly unlikely they screen the airports or whatever for me comin' back," Tony answered evenly. "The chances of this old story posing a threat to Vance are highly unlikely."

Yeah. And if this was anyone but DiNozzo Gibbs would be inclined to agree with him. But this _was_ DiNozzo. It was also highly unlikely for someone to be pushed out of an airplane, be drugged and dragged to the gutter to die slowly and painfully, go on the run chained to a psycho-killer, be accused of murder not just once but _three_ times or have _three _cases involving his scumbag father. And let's not even talk about contracting and surviving a certain medieval disease. No, with DiNozzo, everything that could go wrong did go wrong, no matter how practically non-existent the chances were.

But Gibbs also knew when Tony's mind was made up and he could see, while Tony was reluctant to go on this assignment, he was also determined to not let his past interfere with his duties. He sighed. "Don't do anything stupid. Don't visit or contact old friends; stay away from any place you've ever been to in Philadelphia. Don't go to the grave or anywhere near where the shooting took place. Stay away from anything Italian. Especially pizza places. And if you see, hear, smell or just feel anything off, spot a familiar face or anyone from the family, you duck and call me. Understood?"

There was a smile playing on Tony's lips. "You telling me not to leave the house without a coat and gloves on too?" Gibbs just glared and he sighed. "I hear you, Boss."

Gibbs intensified his glare. That was not what he wanted to hear.

Tony shook his head. "All right, I'll watch my six." As Gibbs still kept his unyielding stare on him, he nodded. "And I'll call whenever I have to take a leak."

Finally, Gibbs nodded satisfied. "You do that."

He was _not _kidding. There was no better place to abduct or attack someone than in the head. You were usually alone and if there was someone waiting for you, it would take them at least double the time to wonder why you took so long and even longer until someone decided to go check on you after all. So yeah, if it helped protect his SFA, Tony damn well better called him before heading anywhere alone. Including the bathroom.

Tony rolled his eyes, but Gibbs was confident that he had gotten the message. Satisfied he nodded, reaching for his tools and the wooden locomotive. "Oh and DiNozzo? Don't forget to put on gloves and a shawl whenever you go outside."

TBC!

* * *

_Author's Note: So, yet another story born ... Hope you liked this little Prelude. And yeah, you guessed it, lot's of tension in it. On that note perhaps a word to the Tim-fans out there. I love Tim and I love the dynamics between him and Tony. But sometimes he's just out of line in a way Tony never would be. Especially these past few seasons. So this story will partly deal with that and Tim's got to have to learn a hard lesson - which will be doubly hard for Tony. And I can't leave it be, you should have guessed it as well - once more a lot of Tony-in-charge-mode, simply because we hardly ever get that on the show, so well, guess I'll have to write it moi-même ... _

_That's it, more I won't tell. Hope you like it anyway, as well as the rest of this story. First chapter will come soon!_


	2. Hit

Chapter 1 - Hit

It was the third day of the convention, and so far it had been so boring Tony almost wished for something to happen. Anything to stop the parade of speeches and demonstrations of new computer programs for anything from filing to tracking, improved code breakers, more impenetrable firewalls and whatever else almost un-understandable techno mumbo-jumbo he'd been forced to listen to for two and a half _long_ days now.

Vance was currently in the hotel restaurant, having dinner with some of his colleagues from FBI, Army and Homeland. McGee was in there too, guarding him while he was more than happy to keep an eye on the foyer and main exit from the hotel bar. Anything to get away from McGee's smug superior behavior and Vance's humorless and reluctant tolerance of his mere existence, even if it was just for a few hours. Then again though, once Vance turned in, he could actually also allow himself a drink while McGee covered the first shift. Just one, before he'd take a short nap until his shift started at 0200. He could have given the graveyard shift to McGee, but first, he wasn't in the mood to hear the younger agent complain about the unfairness of this and honestly, he preferred to take the quiet hours of the night.

He had always done his best work at night and at least then the two other men were fast asleep, which was quickly becoming the only state in which he could still bear their presence.

Thank God the conference would be over tomorrow evening! A short trip back and then this ordeal would be over, giving him a day to relax before he'd have to return to work. Just one more day and the protection detail was over, without there having been an incident. One more day and he could leave Philly and all the memories that haunted him here, this time hopefully for good. So far he had also been lucky that he hadn't run into any people he still knew from his two years with PPD.

Of course there were cops from PPD here, but they were either new or had worked in a different department from him. Still, he had been careful, avoiding introducing himself with his full name. If asked, he was just Tony, a fed working for NCIS. Gibbs had been right about him still having enemies here and the fewer opportunities he made for word to get out that he was back in town, the better.

"You have some nerve, daring to show your face in this city again."

About to take a sip from his iced tea, he froze, closing his eyes in dismay. Damn. He should have known better than to ask for the devil. Slowly putting his drink down he turned around slightly, hoping he had been wrong in his recognition of the voice. It had been almost twenty years after all. No such luck. Careful to keep his face and voice neutral, he shrugged. "Not my choice, Alyssa. I'm just here for the conference and gone again by tomorrow night."

"And you think we'll just let you leave again as if nothing had happened?" she asked, coldly.

No, but he could still hope, couldn't he? But he said nothing, instead turning his eyes back to the door he was supposed to watch. "I don't want any trouble. Nor do I want to get involved with your family again. I did my job twenty years ago just as I am doing my job now."

She moved in front of him to stare at him with all the hate of the world in her heart, there in her eyes. She hadn't changed much since their last confrontation in court. Her black hair had a bit of grey in it and there were more lines in her face, but she still cleaned up very nicely for a woman in her late forties. "Killing babies is a job? You bastard."

He sighed. "Andrea was hardly a baby. He was a fourteen year old boy trying his best to kill me with his glock. Besides, technically, I didn't kill him."

Not that that technicality did much to ease his soul or stop his guilty conscience from tormenting him with nightmares to this day. In the end, it didn't matter that it had been dark and he hadn't been able to see who exactly was shooting at him. It didn't matter that he had already taken two bullets and was almost losing consciousness before he had taken the kill shot. It didn't matter that Andrea had already killed his partner. All that mattered in the end was that he had shot a kid and he had to live with that for the rest of his life. . Just like he lived with the knowledge that given the same circumstances, he'd take that shot again.

The only thing he'd hope to change was that this time, his bullet would actually kill the kid instead of rendering him a living vegetable. He'd gotten him in the head, and still, the boy didn't die, just falling into a coma he would never wake up from, still rotting away in some private clinic. The kid was the spawn of Satan, but he didn't deserve this. Nor did his family deserve it.

Alyssa had gone white with rage and the slap she gave him wasn't unexpected. But when she tried to double it, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her close, aware of the people around him looking at them, their fingers twitching for their weapons. At such a convention, the place crawled with LEOs. "Let it rest, Alyssa. You don't want to try anything here. In case you've forgotten, you're at a law enforcement convention and surrounded by cops and feds, assaulting a federal agent. They'd take you down in a heartbeat. Go home, Alyssa. Go back to your kids and family. Let go of the past. There's nothing you can do to change it."

"I can kill you, I bet that would make me feel better," she hissed, her natural beauty shredded by the immense hate that was eating at her.

"But you aren't like your brother, your father, your husband. You aren't a killer," he told her softly. She wasn't. Not twenty years ago and he bet his life that she wasn't now either. Born into the wrong family, brought up with certain expectations, ignorant enough to turn a blind eye on what her family was involved with – but killing wasn't in her nature. If it were he'd have been long dead.

"You killed my baby brother, and sent my father and my husband to prison. I have every reason to hate you," Alyssa cried, but keeping her voice down.

"Yes, you do," he acknowledged. It was the simple truth. "But it takes more than hate to find it in yourself to actually take a life in revenge."

Her face scrunched up and her dark eyes filled with tears. "You asshole. Why can't I just twist the knife into your heart like you twisted it into mine?"

Not bothering to answer her again, he let her go, smiling at the suspicious LEOs still watching them wearily. "Go home, Alyssa," he repeated, softly.

For a long moment, she stared at him, still full of hate, still trembling with rage and her need for revenge. But finally, she whirled around and almost ran away from him. Breathing deeply in relief, he shrugged, giving the other LEOs another grin, making sure it was a leery one. "Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. There are no truer words."

Some chuckled, some shook their heads, a few turned away in disgust. But everyone relaxed and minded their own business once again and that was all Tony asked for. Turning back to his drink, he gulped down the iced tea, desperately wishing for it to be straight Jack. He almost ordered one, but then thought better of it. He was still on duty. It could wait until he was off in a couple of hours. So he ordered another iced tea, checked his watch and settled back to resume his duty, hoping that for once since they'd left DC, the time would fly by.

* * *

Tim packed his razor kit into his suitcase and closed it with a contented smile. With everything packed, after the last demonstration today, they could just go fetch their baggage and leave. What a worthwhile trip this had been! Not only had he been able to learn about the newest and state of the art technology now available for use in law enforcement, no, he'd also had the opportunity to make a lot of new contacts he was sure would be helpful in the future. And perhaps even more importantly, he really felt like the mutual respect between himself and the Director had grown further. More than once Vance had asked for his opinion about one of the new technologies presented at the convention and Tim was confident that, given the budget, Vance was really listening to his advice in purchasing some of the new gadgets. He couldn't wait to be back and tell Abby everything about the new babies they'd get to play with. She would be so psyched!

The door to the bathroom opened and Tony came out, damp from a hot shower and clad only in a towel, with a second rubbing his hair dry. Checking over the room quickly, he nodded. "Good, you're all packed. Go see if Vance is ready already as well. I'll clean up, check out and catch up with you at the convention. It's the one about smart borders in the big conference room, isn't it?"

Annoyed at yet again being told what he knew to do anyway, Tim swallowed down a corresponding response and nodded. "Yes, Tony."

By the quick glance in his direction he guessed he hadn't managed to keep down the sarcasm as much as he could. Too bad. As much as he had enjoyed the convention part of this trip, and having the opportunity to spend some one-on-one quality time with the Director, having to be paired with Tony and him constantly bossing him around had been the only, but certainly quite considerable downside of it. Thank God that soon, he'd get away from the juvenile man, even if it was only a day before they had to report back to work.

Then again, as annoying as he had been, no surprise there, Tony had been strangely quiet on this trip. Mostly he stayed strictly in business mode, and there had been few jokes, no pranks, and it looked like no flirting whatsoever. Well, almost none, sure he always had had a smile or an appreciative look for the receptionist, waitress or even some visitors, but that had been the extent of it. Actually, sometimes he had seemed downright sullen, not at all like Tony.

Not that Tim was worried. Of course Tony was pouting. After all, for once, he wasn't the favored agent who could get away with almost anything, only getting a mild cuff on the head when he was out of line. Vance had been very clear what kind of behavior he expected and what he wouldn't tolerate and a few well chosen words to Tony on the trip over had only enforced that. Unfortunately, not even Vance could change that Tony was his senior and therefore could feel free to order him around as he pleased. The director had made sure though that McGee was usually the one directly guarding his body, leaving Tony to keep an eye on everything else and fortunately, also giving him some space.

Much needed space as Tim doubted he could have tolerated DiNozzo one-on-one for more time than he already had to.

Reaching for his jacket, he was eager to get out of their room, finding some more relief from Tony's presence.

"Whoa, not so fast, McSpeedy. I don't see you wearing your vest."

Rolling his eyes, Tim didn't stop. "That's because I'm not wearing it. It's way too hot for the vest and it's not like there is any reason why I have to wear it."

"The reason, McCareless, is that you're supposed to put yourself between a bullet and your Director and believe me, you don't want to do that without the protection of a vest," Tony told him in his usual cynical tone. "You know, as noble as the whole die-for-your-Director-stunt is, we should actually try to avoid the dying part of it."

"Oh, come on, Tony! We're at a fricking law enforcement convention with police officers and federal agents all over the place. This is probably the safest place there is in the States at the moment. No one's wearing a vest, they all got rid of them by the second day at least," Tim pointed out, indignant.

Tony shook his head. "I don't care about the others, I care about my Director and my team member. Just _because_ this is a LEOs convention, it is a perfect target and getting in is easy enough, if you set your mind to it. Put on the vest, Tim."

Turning around, Tim glared at him, sure this was yet another way for Tony to demonstrate his power over him. "No." Tony raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just held his glare. "I can't anyway, I already packed it away."

"Well in that case," Tony mocked, before his whole body language changed from relaxed to steel in the blink of an eye, "I suggest you see to it that you unpack it ASAP and put it on, 'cause you won't leave this room without a vest on, let alone get to shadow the director today. And that, Special Agent McGee, is a direct order and if you fail to follow it, I guarantee you I'll write you up before this convention is over."

Not bothering to stay and see if his orders were followed, Tony grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared back into the bathroom, the door slamming shut with a reverberating bang, leaving Tim standing alone in the middle of the room, fuming.

* * *

Excusing himself, Vance moved towards a more secluded area to make his call, signalling McGee to stand back out of earshot.

"Gibbs."

"As I didn't have any urgent calls from SecNav I take it NCIS is still standing?" Vance opened the conversation lightly. He was in a good mood. The convention so far had been a full success. Not only had he a list of new equipment and programs he wanted for NCIS, he was confident that his several talks with colleagues outside the presentations had further strengthened NCIS's position as a major player in the ongoing war against terrorism. SecNav wanted NCIS to be more involved by the other agencies and it looked as if these four days had helped that goal considerably. Networking was one of the most important parts of his job and this convention had offered the perfect opportunity.

"What do you want, Leon?" Gibbs answered tersely and Vance recognized it as a sign of the many hours his best team leader had probably put in in order to solve the case.

"How's the supposed suicide case coming along?" Vance asked, turning to look out of the window. They were on the thirty-first floor and it was a sunny day, so the view truly was spectacular.

"We're closing in on the suspect," came another short answer over the line. "But that's not why you called either. Just cut the crap and get to it, Leon, I don't have time for small talk."

A muscle jumped in Vance's jaw. Since becoming Director, that particular muscle sure had had a good work out, especially when he had anything to do with Gibbs. Who was he kidding? Gibbs or occasionally his team, namely his prized Senior Field Agent, were the sole reason for that particular muscular twitch. "Does the name Alyssa Malcuso ring any bells?" Silence. Then a curse that would have had lesser men blushing. As it was, Vance raised an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes. Care to enlighten me?"

But Gibbs had other priorities. "What happened?" For once, it was Vance who was in the position to stall, saying nothing until Gibbs gave him an answer to his previous question. "That woman is part of the reason why I told you it would be better to take David instead of DiNozzo with you," Gibbs finally said impatiently. "Now it's your turn, Leon."

Fair enough. "There was an incident yesterday evening. I wasn't present myself, but I heard about the confrontation – several times already – where apparently a slap to the face was involved. I didn't hear it from DiNozzo though." Not that that was a big surprise. As much as the younger man liked to talk, even he had learned over the years that where it counted, the agent was more secretive than NSA and CIA together.

"It's not what you think," Gibbs told him, his voice tense.

Vance's eyebrow rose. "What do I think?"

"He didn't sleep with her. It's about an old case that went FUBAR."

"I pulled his file. There was no case that mentioned an Alyssa Malcuso," Vance pointed out.

"You should have looked under Paccieti. It's a sealed FBI case though, there's not much info left in DiNozzo's file other than a short mention of his involvement. You know the FBI. They like to snatch away credit from where credit's due." The contempt in Gibbs voice was obvious, a contempt Vance shared, though he would never voice it openly. Hence he was Director while Gibbs would never be anything else than a team leader. Then again, they were both perfectly happy with that arrangement.

"Cesare Paccieti?" Vance asked, glancing back to where his agent stood close to the doors, scanning everyone leaving and entering the conference room. Everyone had heard about the Paccieti case. It had been one of the FBI's biggest win against the mob since arresting Capone. "DiNozzo was part of the takedown?"

Back in DC, Gibbs snorted in a rather uncharacteristic fashion. "Part of? Leon, he brought the entire Paccieti organisation down almost single-handedly. Fourteen months he was undercover, working his way up quickly until he became Paccieti's left hand man, practically being adopted into the family. It was his evidence that convicted Paccieti and sent him and most of his key players to prison or death row. Alyssa is Paccieti's daughter. And the wife of his right hand man, also serving a life sentence now. She has every reason to want to hurt DiNozzo." There was a slight pause. "Is he okay?"

Vance was silent, having trouble connecting what he had heard and what he knew of the case from the press coverage with the man currently fishing a shrimp from a tray passing by, with a flirtatious grin at the waitress and a glance that went way below her chin. "Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"You never bothered to ask," was the simple and honest reply.

No, he guessed he hadn't. He especially should know that what was in a file was not always everything that there was to know. Heaven knew there were several ops he'd been involved with that were nowhere to be found in his official file. "What went wrong?" he wanted to know because PPD would never have given up on claiming credit for such a prestigious bust if there hadn't been _some_ reason why the FBI could steal it away.

"That's not my place to tell you. But none of it was DiNozzo's fault," Gibbs told him in no uncertain terms before hanging up. Grumbling, Vance finished the call, wishing that just for once, Gibbs would let him have the illusion that he was indeed the former marine's boss.

Across the room, DiNozzo flipped open his cell phone and within seconds looked as if he had been caught with his hand still in the cookie jar. Vance allowed himself a smile. He bet he knew who was busy chewing the SFA out. Turning his attention to the breathtaking view again, he once again opened his phone, this time dialling his home number, confirming to Jackie that he'd be home by late evening.

* * *

"DiNozzo," Tony answered his phone absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the waitress that had just passed him with a cocktail tray.

"Got something to tell me, DiNozzo?"

Momentarily distracted, he frowned. "Boss?"

"Did I or did I not tell you to call me if someone from your past made contact with you?" Gibbs asked, his voice hard.

Tony blinked. "Uh ..."

"And did you or did you not meet with Alyssa Malcuso last night?" Gibbs continued in a lower voice.

"Oh." How did the man do this? "Well you see, technically I didn't meet with her. I was on watch and she happened to pass by. It was no big deal. We had some words, then she went on her way. Nothing you needed to know about." Even as he finished he knew it was the wrong thing to say and involuntarily, he ducked in expectation of the head slap that of course didn't come. Not even Gibbs could head slap through the phone.

Across the room, the waitress with the nicely muscled legs moved swiftly through the crowd, her eyes scanning the room in a way all too familiar to Tony and that left him on edge. She wore the wrong shoes too.

"You don't decide what I need to know and what I don't. I gave you an order. I expect you to follow your orders."

Somehow, Tony had the feeling of deja-vu. Only that in the similar conversation a few hours ago, he had been the one dishing out orders. If McGee had viewed his order as as senseless as Tony found this one, then it was no wonder he had had his panties in such a twist over it. But no. This wasn't the same. This was concerning the field and the safety of one of his agents and their director whereas Gibbs just was paranoid. "She's no threat to me."

"Yeah? Your face would agree on that too?" Gibbs asked dryly.

Really. _How_ did he do it? Thankfully though, Tony was saved from answering when the waitress stopped by one of the guests for a bit too long for his taste. He had seen the guy around, never liking him much but not able to pinpoint what exactly was rubbing him up the wrong way about him. But first the waitress had caught his attention, in the wrong way, and now he saw her passing this guy something and his gut churned really badly. Quickly, he looked around, checking for the exits.

"DiNozzo!"

"Something's wrong, Boss. I think we're facing an attack." He stopped to covertly take a picture of the suspicious couple. "I'm sending you a shot for two facials." Out of the corner of the eye he could see the speaker for this morning moving towards the main doors, his eyes briefly meeting with those of the couple. "Gotta get Vance out of here," he said quietly to himself, already moving towards McGee and the Director as he hung up on Gibbs. Every instinct he had told him that there was no time left and they needed to get the hell out of here.

Reaching McGee, he grabbed his elbow and drew the protesting agent the few feet over to Vance who was talking on the phone by the window. His instincts driving him urgently, he took the phone from the Director's hand, closed it and dunked it into the nearest full glass.

"Agent DiNozzo, what the hell ..."

"Suspects on three, six and nine o'clock," he interrupted in a low, intense voice, not taking his eyes off the enemies. Their bodies had tensed, their eyes focused. Shit. They were losing time. "McGee, get Vance out of here, down to the garage. I'll cover you. Take the stairs, we can't risk the elevator."

"What? Are you crazy? I'm not taking stairs when we're in the top floor of a thirty-one floor high building for some imaginary reason. If this is a test ..."

"I'm not leaving here until you explained yourself, DiNozzo. If you think ..."

Again he interrupted both McGee's and Vance's protests, feeling the clock ticking in his mind and cursing them for not following his orders and himself for having let it get so out of hand that apparently no one listened to him anymore. "Director, I'm in charge of your safety and when I say you leave, you leave. McGee, you have your orders. Get him out, _now_!"

On six o'clock, the waitress lost the tray, her hand reaching under her skirt. "Gun," he shouted, pushed McGee on Vance and both of them towards the door as he used his body to shield them both, even as he drew his own SigSauer. He had it up and pointed at the waitress at the same time, their fingers pulling the triggers simultaneously.

* * *

Tim's breath caught and seemed to be stuck, not wanting to go out again, from the moment Tony shouted his warning, pushing him onto Vance, herding them both towards the exit. His mind was still trying to comprehend what was going on, but at least his body seemed to work as it was supposed to. So he kept a hand on Vance's shoulder as he covered him as much as possible while they ran in a crouch towards the exit, bursting through the door just as he heard the first shots being discharged. He looked back, suddenly very aware that Tony was supposed to be behind them. But he only saw the door slamming shut in his face, drowning out the sound of chaos erupting in the conference room, not thick enough to muffle the panicked screams though. Or the sound of more gunfire echoing loud in his ears.

Ahead of him, Vance was already descending the stairs at a pace that was amazing, considering the years since he'd last been in the field. He knew he should race after him, but still he hesitated, desperately waiting for Tony to follow them. Where was he? He'd been just behind him, it shouldn't take him so long to reach the door and come after them. Unless ...

_No_.

No, after Gibbs, Tony was the strongest man he knew. A few bullets couldn't bring him down so easily. He'd probably just made sure no one was going to follow them, covering their exit, just as he had said. Slowly, Tim moved towards the stairs. After all, his orders had been clear. And this was why he was here in the first place. To protect the Director. Not Tony. Besides, Tony could watch after himself. He got kidnapped, he escaped. He was bound to a chair and left with an assassin to be killed, yet he almost killed the other guy while he was still tied to that chair. Junkies on a trip held him, unarmed, at gunpoint and he killed them. A serial killer had him with a knife at his throat and he put three rounds into his head. He watched Gibbs dive with a car and a civilian in it into the Potomac and he ran through a warehouse and across a dock, killing two gunmen on the way, before jumping into the freezing water to rip out not only a windshield but a steering wheel as well to get Gibbs and the girl out, bringing them up to do CPR on both of them. A Kidon fighter tried to kill him and Tony killed him instead.

No way three assailants could get the better of him now.

But he still wasn't coming through the door. Every instinct told McGee that his partner needed help. That he couldn't leave him behind. At the same time though he couldn't shake the feeling that Tony wouldn't appreciate it at all if he went back for him instead of doing what he was supposed to do. Hell, he wouldn't put it past him to suspend him for that. Shaking his head, he hesitantly followed Vance down the stairs, trying to catch up with him while keeping one ear listening for any sign that Tony was following them.

There was none.

Despite his panting, he found the breath to curse long and fluently, using words that would give his mother a heart attack. Tony had to be okay. Or Gibbs was going to skin him alive for leaving his partner behind.

About half way down, his legs started to feel leaden and his lungs burned. But he pushed himself to continue, his mind narrowed down to keeping an eye on Vance's back, the tight grip he had on his weapon that he couldn't remember drawing, and any signs of another perp bursting through one of the doors.

There was no one, thank God. Maybe they'd only been upstairs in the conference room, not at all interested in him or Vance. Maybe they weren't smart enough to think about covering the stairs, only watching the elevators. If there were more at all. Whatever it was, Tim was happy not to question it. And while his body protested loudly at the exertion he was putting it through with going down thirty-three floors to the parking level, he couldn't help but admit that it had probably been a good shout by Tony to insist on it. Maybe saved their lives. Got them the best chance to get out of here.

Tony still had to show up. There was no indication that he was following them. The only sound in the stairwell so far was his and Vance's harsh breathing and the pounding of their steps.

But maybe Tony had taken the elevator. He must have realized that there was no way he could catch up with them by taking the stairs as well and so he rode down instead. Yeah, that had to be it. Typical Tony. Make him do the chores while he took the easy and comfortable way. It certainly had nothing to do with him maybe not being able to follow them. Because this was Tony, who had been shot, stabbed, beaten, blown up, hell, even infected with the plague and none of it had slowed the older man down much. Not until after the danger was over and there was time and place to crash.

Tim nearly cried with relief as they finally reached the parking level where their rental was parked. But before Vance opened the door, he pushed himself to hurry forward, intervening. "Director, wait, let me go first!" Vance hesitated and it was all the time he needed to get ahead of him. As it was supposed to be. He wasn't the consultant anymore, who advised his Director on what to purchase to benefit NCIS the most. Within a short moment, he was reduced back to being a shield and with Tony stil AWOL, it was solely on him to make sure that Vance wasn't hurt or killed.

His hold on his weapon tightening, he took a deep breath and opened the door, carefully stepping out, sweeping the level. As far as he could see and hear there was no one there, then again, it was full of cars, there might be perps waiting among them somewhere. But it was a risk they needed to take. Motioning Vance to follow him, he slowly made his way towards their car, making sure he stayed in front of the Director at all times.

Approaching their car, he stopped when he saw a figure standing by it. The light was too dim for him to see clearly, but the figure was tall with broad shoulders. Athletic. The tightness in his gut eased and he relaxed. "Tony. Knew you'd take the elevator while ..."

The figure turned around but it wasn't Tony's mocking grin that greeted him. Tim brought up his gun higher, ready to shoot, but it was too late. With a twisted, cruel smile on his lips, the other man had already fired and the bullet smashed into his chest, pain exploding, darkening his vision as his body was slammed into Vance.

TBC!

* * *

_Author's Note: Wow ... Oh man, you guys! I was blown away by all the many and wonderful reviews you left me! Thank you! I do hope you liked this one too, despite certain points I can imagine you perhaps liked less. Well, I guess I'll see it soon. One note perhaps on Malcuso. No, I didn't confuse it with Macaluso from Baltimore that Tony brought down too. I named them and only later noticed how similar the names were. And I thought about changing the names. Thing is, once my charas get named, they grow and become as real as an unreal person can get and the name's part of who they are. So I left it like it was and if there was any confusion, sorry about that and I hope that's resolved now. Okay, that's it. Hope you enjoyed it and more to come soon!_


	3. Escape

Chapter 2 - Escape

Vance did his best to catch his fallen agent as his body slammed into him, gentling his fall, trying to protect his head from smashing into the hard concrete floor. The shooter was coming closer, the twisted smile on his face deepening.

McGee's weapon was still lying loosely in his limp hand. Not wasting any more precious time, he reached for it, cursing himself for not having geared up himself. Then again, who could blame him for not factoring that he'd need to be armed while he was attending a law enforcement convention with tight security and two agents as protection detail. Two agents who had perhaps already given their lives to keep him safe. He hadn't had time yet to check McGees pulse and DiNozzo had yet to follow them. It was their job, but that didn't mean it hurt Vance any less. He loved his job, but he resented the idea of his agents sacrificing themselves for him.

In vain. A heavy boot slammed down onto his hand, making him cry out as his fingers were smashed. Then the gun was kicked away, out of reach. Biting down the pain in his hand, Vance looked up into the cold, gleeful eyes of his soon-to-be killer and knew he would die within the next few moments.

"Leon Vance. You can't imagine how glad I am you managed to escape my friends upstairs," the man told him, almost eagerly as he pressed the barrel of his gun against Vance's forehead. "I've been looking forward to this for a very long time."

With a start Vance realized that this was no random hit, that he was indeed the target of this insane attack. But why? He had a damn good memory and knew without a doubt that he had never seen this man who was going to kill him before in his life. "Who are you?"

The man grinned. "Vengeance." And pulled the trigger.

But before he could pull it back far enough to trigger the discharge, another shot rang out, echoed by a second and third. As Vance watched he saw a hole appear in the man's forehead, and two more in his chest, even as he felt the warm blood splatter his face. The man's body fell with a hard thud to the ground in front of him, the soft sound bringing the Director out of his momentary shock. Making him realize that he was still alive, however surreal this felt like at the moment. He blinked, turned his head.

There his savior stood, his legs spread wide, his weapon still up and pointed, already sweeping around in search of more threats, more targets.

DiNozzo.

Softly, he breathed out. So DiNozzo had made it after all. And just in time. In that moment, every doubt Vance ever had about the man's abilities on protection details vanished. Gibbs had been right after all. No matter the many FUBAR protection details in his file, it had to have been out of DiNozzo's hands because no way the man slowly approaching them, still on high alert, would have let anything happen to his charges if he could help it.

As he reached them, Vance could see that his agent was pale and sweaty, lines of pain etched into his face. There was blood on his clothing, his knuckles were red and there were several cuts visible on his face and arms, though they didn't look too deep. It looked as if DiNozzo had been in a hell of a fight. But none of it showed in his eyes as he finally looked down at Vance. "You okay?"

The question brought back awareness of the momentarily forgotten pain in his hand with a vengeance. He grimaced, fighting down the agony. This wasn't his first walk in the park, not by far. He could deal with it. "Got a few broken fingers, but I'm fine otherwise." He wouldn't even have admitted that much, but DiNozzo needed to know his abilities to fight for himself were quite limited with his right hand out of commission.

DiNozzo gave a short nod before his eyes moved to the still figure beside Vance. "McGee?"

Right. Cursing himself for having lost so much time before doing this, Vance reached out with his good hand to check his agent's pulse. "Took a round to the chest." The beat against his fingers was strong and steady. He breathed out again. So no self-sacrificing agents on his conscience after all. Not yet anyway. He moved his hand to McGee's chest. "Vest caught it. Just knocked him out cold."

"Yeah, that would do it," DiNozzo said softly, but the relief in his voice was evident. He looked back over his shoulder. "They're after you, Sir. It won't be long until they catch up with us. Can you move?"

Right. With a nod, Vance moved his feet under him. While still crouching, he pulled one of McGee's hands over his shoulder before heaving them both up into a standing position. He staggered a bit but then he managed to steady the two of them. He was extremely grateful though that the car was only a few feet away, aware that he couldn't support the dead weight of his agent for very long on his own. But DiNozzo had to watch their backs, so he just had to grit his teeth and deal with it himself for now. He took a couple of steps towards their car.

"No. Our friend here may have tempered with it, or put a tracker on it, just in case. We need to take another car," DiNozzo stopped him, moving already to a SUV standing two places away from them. Before Vance could say anything he had smashed the driver's window in with the butt of his gun, ignoring the alarm going off as he reached in to open the door. Well, so much for how DiNozzo planned to get into another car. Slowly, Vance made his way over to the black SUV. By the time he reached it, DiNozzo had opened the door and swept away the worst of the shards. With another look back he helped Vance to put McGee into the back seat, strapping his slumped body in. Then he got into the driver's seat and reached for the wires under the steering wheel while Vance rounded the car to get into the passenger seat. "Maybe it's best we wait on the police here," he said even as he put his seat belt on.

Predictably, DiNozzo shook his head, still concentrating on starting the car. "No. Too much of a risk. They walked into a room full of cops and feds, armed with automatic weapons and grenades. Damn, I hate those new security systems," he cursed as he still fumbled with the wires.

_Grenades_?

Before Vance could ask about that, the sound of the elevator opening had them both glancing up. Cursing again, DiNozzo put even more urgency into his fumbling. He was just about to suggest they try it with their car after all when the motor stirred to life. Sitting up, DiNozzo didn't lose any time. As two armed men approached them, he put the SUV in gear and with the tires screeching, backed out and continued to drive backwards towards the close by exit ramp at a speed that even in forward motion would have worried Vance. Dimly he remembered DiNozzo being stubborn when they had arrived, insisting on parking close to the exit instead of the elevator. Back then, McGee had complained, and Vance had taken his part, but now he was extremely grateful for his agent's paranoia.

The armed men ran after them, leaving no doubt about their identity when they opened fire on them. But by that time, DiNozzo had already yanked the car into the ramp, still going backwards, before he switched gears and the car shot forward, climbing the ramp as fast as he could risk it towards the exit. Reaching it, he didn't hesitate before simply crashing through the barrier, shooting out into the street.

* * *

As soon as they were out to the road, Tony slowed down, despite the adrenalin running through his body urging him to press down on the gas. But if you wanted to stay inconspicuous, racing through the streets was not the way to do it. They had surprised their attackers, first with making them before their strike and then by escaping. That would give them a head start. Unfortunately, he doubted it would shake them off their tail for long. It helped that they could change the car but they'd seen their new wheels so that was bad.

Fuck, how had things gone sour so fast? Who were these guys? They were professionals, that much was clear, and determined. To get to Vance. He wasn't sure yet why. To kill him? The perp in the garage sure had seemed to be intent on putting a bullet into Vance's head before he killed him. But those up in the penthouse? Not so sure there. Either way, they were after his charge and he couldn't let that happen.

Wouldn't.

He'd already lost one director on his watch, he wasn't going to lose another one. This time, no one was getting by him. First, they had to go _through_ him.

Now he'd just have to figure out how they could all survive. His eyes checked McGee in the rear mirror. So close. If he hadn't insisted on him wearing the vest this morning ... He probably wouldn't have if McGee hadn't been so obnoxious lately, questioning his orders left and right. But there was no time to dwell on that. He'd insisted on the vest, McGee had listened in the end and was still alive. Unconscious still, and that worried him. Taking one in the chest hurt like a bitch, no doubt. It knocked the breath out of you, robbing you of all your senses, which was only natural when a sledgehammer with the force of a truck at full speed slammed into you. But it usually didn't knock you out like that. Unless, when the force flew you backwards and you hit the ground, you hit it with your head first. That was another story altogether, one that had his gut in a chilly clench.

The best thing would probably be to head straight to the next hospital. And he would if he wasn't sure that's where they were going to look for them first. Good, they'd have the advantage of being in a crowd and with security around them. Too bad that they'd just fled from the big and at least partially armed crowd of a _law enforcement _convention. So no, the thought of going to a hospital where they'd be found within no time wasn't very comforting.

Next plausible destination was the nearest police station. Actually, his old squad wasn't very far away. He almost took the turn that would get them there by the fastest way. But he didn't. It was one thing that he didn't really have any friends there left, not after Lee's death and their boss moving on to Chicago. Not after him more or less killing a kid. No matter that it was pure self-defense and something that could have happened to any other cop, it tainted your reputation and no one wanted to be seen with a baby-killer. Or perhaps it was just because it could happen to anyone, his mere presence becoming a reminder of what could await them in that dark alley around the corner. No, mainly, as with his reasons not to go to the nearest hospital, they barely escaped alive from a freaking LEO's convention that had been infiltrated and certainly not without help. The waitress didn't worry him much, it was easy enough to slip in as service personnel. But the speaker? That was another pair of shoes and the one that made him drive right past the turn. PPD had hosted this thing and organized most speakers. The sad truth was he just couldn't trust the police here and boy, to have to admit that, even after his rather unfortunate stint at the PPD, hurt.

He wasn't going to risk his Director's and partner's lives because of nostalgic reasons. But if hospitals and police were out of the question, what then? His grip on the wheel tightened, the strain of it making his knuckles stand out white.

In the backseat McGee groaned and he felt some of the ice in his gut melting. "About time you joined us. How you feeling?"

McGee took a long moment to answer, blinking, rubbing at his chest and back of the head. "Owww."

Well yeah. Letting him gather his wits, Tony went back to trying to figure out what to do next. Best would be to leave the city as fast as possible. "You have your ID and ticket on you?"

Beside him, Vance's hand went up to his breast pocket as he nodded. No response from the backseat. "McGee?"

"Uh, ID ... No. Don't know ... Thought I put it in my pocket but it's not there." He looked at him, confused.

The guy just woke up after being shot, he deserved some slack, Tony reminded himself and forced himself to stay calm. "In the pocket of your jacket or your pants?"

"Jacket," McGee answered slowly, rubbing at his head with a grimace on his face. "Oh. Took it off. Was too hot with the vest on," he finally remembered with a frown. "Ticket? Right. No. It's in my briefcase with my PDA," he finally answered slowly.

Which was back at the hotel. His grip tightened some more but Tony kept his lips pressed together. The guy probably had a concussion and some bruised ribs. Besides, he wouldn't ream him out for being so careless in front of the Director.

Okay. Okay, they could still work with that. McGee couldn't fly but Vance still could. Once he was past the security checkpoints he should be safe until he landed back in Washington where Gibbs could take over the security detail. Protocol would demand that he leave with him, but he couldn't leave McGee behind alone, not in the vulnerable state he was in. Besides, once he'd gotten Vance to the security zone, their pursuers should lose interest in them. While the director flew back to Washington, he could get Tim to the hospital, check him out.

Maybe make himself a short trip by the emergency room, he thought, suppressing a wince, doing his best to ignore the fiery pain spreading out from his left side.

Yeah, the airport was their best option. Swerving harshly into the left line, he took the next exit towards the airport.

* * *

God, it hurt. He felt as if a sledgehammer had worked him over, breaking his chest and cracking in his head. Mostly though, the shock of almost dying had him in an icy grip that had him shaking and catching his breath every other time. Since becoming an agent he had often come close to dying, but never so close he could still feel Death's breath on the back of his neck.

If Tony hadn't insisted on him wearing the vest ...

His eyes slid to what he could see of Tony. To think he'd been such an ass to him about having to wear the vest. It had seemed so ridiculous. And now ... He was still alive. Thanks to Tony. Again.

Alive - and in a car, driving. To a hospital? Was Vance hurt? Shit! Vance! He was supposed to protect him but he had no idea what had happened after he'd blacked out. Great job he'd done. If he'd been the one in charge they'd most likely all be dead by now. Dead or taken hostage. How Tony had been able to make the shooters was beyond him. He had had absolutely no clue, never suspecting anything, let alone expecting anything to happen. And then down in the parking lot - he shouldn't have let his guard down. Never assume! But he had so desperately wanted the man waiting on them to be Tony ... It had almost killed him. And maybe the Director too.

Stupid!

"You okay?" he asked finally, though it felt as if it was way too little too late.

"Yes, we're okay," Vance answered.

"Apart from your broken fingers, you mean," Tony corrected, his voice dark. "Not to mention that we're on the run from a strike team that wants to kill and or kidnap you. Any idea why that would be?"

Vance shook his head, grim. "I'm afraid not. I've never seen the man you killed in the parking lot. And I didn't get a good look at those hitting us in the penthouse."

Tim rubbed at his chest. Tony had killed the guy that had shot him? He wasn't sure why he was still surprised by that. Tony had the annoying but undoubtedly also very practical knack of showing up just in the right moment to steal the show or save the day. Some days, that annoyed the hell out of Tim - other days, he couldn't be more grateful. Today was one of the latter occasions.

"The speaker who presented the new developments in signals intelligence seemed to be the one calling the shots. He gave the signal for the attack," Tony reported. "Aided by a waitress, five-six, long brown hair, around 30, who slipped the grenades in, and one of the guests. He'd been hanging around in the background mostly but was at every presentation you attended as well. African American, six-two, bald, in his forties I think, with a scar on the back of his right hand. Ring any bells?"

Tim racked his brain but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the waitress or the other man. And he hadn't seen the speaker before this convention. He'd been good though, Tim had found his presentation very interesting. Either he was a great impostor or the real deal. He just needed his PDA so he could look him up. A man with his reputation for sure should have some published work out there.

But of course though, his PDA was back at the hotel, useless to him. Along with his ID and his ticket. Tony may not have said anything but he hadn't needed to. His disapproval had been clear anyway and Tim knew himself that it had been stupid of him to not have his ID on him. He simply forgot to transfer it, too annoyed and pissed about having to wear the vest in the first place to remember it when he took off the jacket.

Besides - who'd have expected something like this happening?

"What kind of scar?"

The director's question had him focus back on the conversation. Just in time to see Tony wince after the shrug he gave. "About five inches long, jagged, a few years old. Maybe from a knife. Had to be a rough blade though."

It still said nothing to Tim so he used the time to take a closer look at his partner. And frowned. The many little cuts Tony had looked as if they had to hurt for sure, but weren't deep enough to cause worry. But he was way too pale for Tim's liking and the sheen of sweat on his face didn't help his impression that Tony might be hurt more seriously, though not that he could see any other injuries. Not that he could see much of Tony from the backseat.

"It wasn't a knife," Vance said, with a growl. "It was a shuriken. This is not good."

"A ninja star?" Tony echoed Tim's own disbelieving thoughts. "And how would you know that?"

"Peter Oldman. Has to be him." Vance cradled his broken hand closer. "We did a few ops together. Among them the one where he got that scar." He frowned. "I didn't see him. He must have avoided me, knowing I would recognize him."

Tim frowned. "But if he worked for us, then why ..." His voice trailed off, realizing that this was probably a stupid question. Obviously, he must have turned.

"What I'd rather like to know is just why he's out for your blood? Who is he working for? He wasn't the one calling the shots, that was the speaker, at least on scene," Tony asked promptly.

"Last I heard, a Chinese triad group, dealing with weapons, intel and hacking." Vance shook his head. "We weren't on that good terms, but I have no idea why he'd want me dead now, after all these years. He's a good hunter, we'll have to watch our backs."

"Oh, don't worry, by now he should be on hell's doorstep. Chinese triad, huh?" Tony sighed. "Let's hope he parted ways with them. I really don't want a triad coming after us."

Tim seconded that emotion. Whoever they were, they'd already gotten way too close, he thought, rubbing at his chest again. He didn't even want to see his torso, he could practically feel the angry bruises forming on his chest. His hand went up to the back of his head. It felt sticky and when his hand came back, the tip of his fingers were a little crimson. Yeah, no wonder his head was throbbing in what felt like a contest with a whole jungle full of drums. In the rear mirror, he saw Tony's worried eyes on him. "'m fine," he assured him quietly.

"We'll see about that. First, we'll drop you, off at the airport, Director. Once you're through security, you should be safe until you land back in Washington. Gibbs can take over there." Tony met Tim's eyes again. "With Vance gone, we should be in the clear and can get you to the hospital."

Frowning, Tim shook his head, regretting it immediately as a firework went off behind his eyes. "I don't need a hospital. And you shouldn't take the risk of letting the Director go on alone. I get that I can't go with you guys but your place is with him. I'll be okay, as you said, once you're gone, the danger should be over. If there is still one. Obviously they failed, why are you so sure they still try to get the director?"

This time, when Tony looked at him via the mirror again, the concern was replaced by annoyance. Well, so be it. Their job was to bodyguard Vance. When Tony suddenly decided to quit on that, he couldn't just sit there and say nothing, couldn't he?

"After all the trouble they went through?" Tony asked sarcastically, before he shrugged. "Whatever, it's my call." He glanced at Vance, as if to make sure there were no protests from him either. Which there weren't, Vance indeed kept his thoughts on Tony's plan to himself. So Tim held his tongue this time. Obviously, right now, he was at the bottom and if he wanted to be honest, he was way out of his element here, feeling like a fish helplessly flapping around on dry land.

He didn't like that feeling at all. It reminded him too much of his days when he first started as a probie on Gibbs' team.

The car stopped and blinking, he realized that they were at the airport already. "Show time," Tony said, turning the engine off.

* * *

_"Something's wrong, Boss. I think we're facing an attack."_

Gibbs wasn't rattled easily, but he sure was now. If you knew what it would take for DiNozzo to admit to something being wrong then you also knew just why someone like him, who had been to war and back, was feeling dread pour into his insides, freezing them, as he heard his second say those words to him.

He was a soldier and an officer of the law though so his moment of panic lasted only a few seconds before he switched gears in his mind and sprang into action. He'd already been on his way to Abby's, now he rushed forward, just as Tony told him he'd try to get Vance out - before the line went dead, causing him to grit his teeth with a furious growl.

When he stormed into the lab, Abby was, like so often, already waiting for him, practically bouncing with excitement. "Gibbs, you were right! I found him, screening online auctions sites for the engagement ring he stole from Ensign Garth' fiancé. He didn't use eBay, I give him that but otherwise what a scumbag deadhead. I'm sending you and Ziva the address - now," she said, pressing a key before turning around, beaming. One good look at him and her smile fell. "Gibbs?"

He pressed his phone in into her hands. "There's a photo on it. Get it out and run a facial search, we need to know who the people on it are. And get into the radio of Philadelphia PD. Something's going on there," he ordered, moving past her to her phone. His first call was to Ziva, his message short. "Get us on the next plane to Philadelphia. Call in favors if necessary." His second and third calls were to Vance and McGee.

If something was wrong they most likely wouldn't pick up but if they did, they could maybe tell him just what the fuck was going on in Philly. If DiNozzo had been wrong in his assumptions, he could tell Vance to fire the idiot for scaring the shit out of him like that.

Both calls weren't picked up, directing him to voice mail after some rings. He hadn't really expected anything else. Tony wasn't one to raise false alarms. Rather the contrary, really. Last time he got a call like that, his Senior Field Agent got himself roofied, kidnapped and incarcerated in a cell in the sewers to rot away along a corpse and a half-dead marine, causing him and his SFA nightmares for years to come.

God, he hoped this time around it would go better than then. Knowing DiNozzo, he wasn't going to bet a dime on it. Which was also why his next call went to Fornell. "Yes?" the FBI agent answered with a question in his voice.

"You got someone you trust in your bureau in Philadelphia?" Gibbs answered, shortly, turning around to see if Abby got something for him already. The picture was up and running but she seemed to be still trying to tab into PPD's database. His eyes narrowed in on the persons on the picture. A waitress handing a guest something. None of them was familiar to him. Or were they? The man triggered something in the far back of his mind, but he couldn't pinpoint it yet.

"Maybe. Why?"

"Got word from DiNozzo. Call was cut off, but he said the convention he accompanied the Director to in Philly was under attack. I need someone's eyes on scene until I get there." His words were met with silence for a few moments before Fornell spoke again. "I'll make a few calls and get back to you." He hung up.

Putting the phone down, Gibbs turned to Abby again. Her eyes were wide and glassy with panic and worry. "The reports are just coming in. Gun fire, screams, and Gibbs, someone mentioned an explosion! Tell me Tony and Tim and Vance are okay, that Tony got them out."

Gibbs said nothing, just drew her in, kissing the top of her head. She snuggled up to him, but only for just a moment before she pushed away, nodding grimly. "Of course he got them out and they're okay. He turns into this scary super-über-strong soldier of the light the moment his people are threatened, just like you do, like a real, Tony-shaped mini-Gibbs. Just think about how many bombs he already survived. This is nothing for him after what happened then."

He hoped she was right. It could be. Tony _was_ a very experienced and resourceful agent, quick-thinking on his feet and with a reliable gut that rivalled his. And if threatened, DiNozzo was usually vastly underestimated, those gunning for him or his friends hardly ever able to withstand the wrath they'd invited upon themselves by provoking Tony.

"I have found us a flight. It leaves in half an hour."

Looking up, he saw Ziva standing in the doorway, looking quizzically at them. The deep frown between her eyes told him though that she'd guessed enough to worry. Half an hour. No way this was a commercial flight. Good. That meant less bureaucracy so they'd get there faster, with their weapons and equipment. He nodded at her and let go of Abby. "Keep screening. You hear something new, call or text me. Same goes if you get a hit," he said, waving at the picture Tony had sent him.

Biting her lip, Abby nodded. He'd joined Ziva at the door when the scientist called his name. She glared at them, expectantly. "You bring them home safe."

Ziva looked from her to him when he grimly grunted his promise. Damn right they'd bring them home. They left, heading for the elevator. "There is trouble in Philadelphia, yes?"

He just looked at her.

"Bad?" Again he only gave her a look. Her lips pressed together into a harsh line as some emotion he couldn't quite identify flared up in her dark eyes. "I tried calling Tony six times, McGee three times and even the Director once. None of the calls was picked up. Checking Tony's log, I saw he called you though. Was there an attempt on Director Vance?"

"Looks like," he growled, hating that he hadn't more of a clue what had happened exactly.

Her back straightened as she readied herself for bad news, he thought. "Was he hurt? Or McGee or Vance?"

It didn't get past him that apparently, her mind was mostly focused on Tony's well being, the others being only an afterthought. But he didn't call her on it. Officially, all he knew was that she and his SFA had a complicated relationship and that was frankly all he needed or wanted to know. As long as it stayed out of the office and field, it was their mess and they were old enough to know what they were doing. Who knew, maybe they could make it work. He and Jenny hadn't been able to, hence Rule Twelve. Then again, Tony and Ziva didn't have the ghost of a dead true love and daughter between them. Just two sets of parents that had messed them both up real good, leading them to a life that held nightmares and many regrets for them both. It kept them apart as far as he knew, at least for now - but he knew as well that it could also knit them together even more than they already were in the end.

Time would tell. And fate, if fate was so merciful to not rob them of any chance they may have.

All he knew was that if he could help it, fate was not going to steal Tony away from either of them.

TBC!

* * *

_Author's Note: Wow. I was blown away by all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter but this time, you shot me to the moon! Thank you so much, I am so happy you liked this chapter so far - and I hope I could continue to please with this one. Now, perhaps, before you get too excited or annoyed, depending on towards where you swing: this is NOT a TIVA story. While I'm TIVA at heart through and through, there are enough stories about those two out there, which is okay of course. But just because of that, I like to focus more on the other relationships within the team and as you've seen so far, TIVA has very little place in this one. Then again, to me, a real good story combines several aspects on different layers and that includes a few scenes that addresses at least the possibility of TIVA. This note because some of you wished for more TIVA while others beg to not have TIVA. So sorry to those who hope for more - and sorry to those who hope for less. I hope you can still enjoy the story. Now, before I go back to actually write on the next chapter, an especially thank you once again to my beta for catching a few mistakes in the story line and setting me straight when I, as a Swiss and depending on what I can find online, get some US-things wrong. Okay, now I've babbled enough. More soon! _


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